Warning
This book contains graphic content intended for readers 18+ years old.
If you are under 18 years old, or are not comfortable with adult content, please close this book now.
Chapter One
I couldn’t tell you why, but I’d always felt surprisingly comfortable at the doctor’s. Maybe it was the gleaming white surfaces and the scent of disinfectant that appealed to the clean-freak within me. Maybe it was the smile of the receptionist as she looked up my name on her computer. Or maybe it was just the fact that it was familiar. After the month I’d had, I’d been in desperate need of something normal.
As I sat in the waiting room, I let out a sigh, attracting a terse glance from an older woman sitting across the room from me reading one of the old magazines they kept in a box. As soon as she looked back down at the page, I pulled a face at her. It was childish, but it made me feel better. Sometimes, it just felt good to let everyone know what a miserable time I was having. Clasping my hands on my stomach in front of me, I went over the events of the last few weeks in my head.
Well, I suppose it had been more than a few weeks- it had started way back when I’d met Frank at the start of the year. We’d hooked up at a New Year’s party, where he’d drunkenly slurred in my ear how much of a thing he had for larger women (yeah, I know, I should have figured out what a douche he was as soon as he thought it was appropriate to tell that to a stranger). But I was tipsy, horny, and wanted someone to make out with when the clock chimed, so I went home with him.
Frank and I had sex- decent, not amazing- and he’d made endless comments about how much he liked my big boobs, my thick thighs and the curve of my tummy. Look, it wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate compliments. Far from it. I love being told I’m pretty as much as the next girl. But it was the way Frank did it, as if he was doing me some huge favor by saying I looked good. He didn’t seem to realize that just because I was a slightly larger woman that people still found me attractive and didn’t feel the need to reduce me down to my weight. I never really appreciated having my body type fetishized like that, but I was at a low point and it felt good to have someone call me hot after a long dry spell.
So, we had sex. And he stayed over. And he kept staying over. And we kept having sex. It wasn’t the great, all-consuming romance I figured a lot of my friends thought it was, but rather something easy and straightforward and a little bit routine. I’d been in love before, and it wasn’t quite that. It was one step down from love, something familiar and normal that sort of just became part of my life. We discovered a handful of things in common-foreign cinema, our alma mater- and it just made sense for us to keep seeing each other. Neither of us had the energy to go out looking for a new partner, so we stayed together because it was easier than heading out into single life again.
Then, of course, I discovered that he wasn’t holding back on looking for new sex partners- he just hadn’t bothered to break up with me first. Yeah, he’d been cheating on be for about three months by the time I figured out why he was avoiding my calls a few nights a week and why he seemed less interested in having mediocre sex with me. I guess everyone expected me to be heartbroken when I found out- especially when I discovered that the woman he’d been cheating on me with was a slim, conventionally gorgeous lawyer from across town- but I was more angry than upset. I didn’t compare myself to her, and simply shrugged and kind of waved him out of my life after that. He tried to apologize and I occasionally got texts from him now asking if I was still single and if I wanted to meet up and he was so sorry and he missed me, as I assumed his bit on the side had lost interest in him once their affair was revealed. I never replied to those texts. I wanted him to stew. Maybe next time he would think better of cheating on the woman he’s been with for eight months.
But much as I felt free- liberated by the loss of my crappy relationship- Frank and his girlfriend had left me with one little parting gift before I could forget them entirely. While Frank and I hadn’t exactly been at it like bunnies before the split, I was keen to get an STD test just in case, so I could present myself with a clean bill of health to all my future partners. And, knowing Frank, he was probably too dumb to wrap it before he stuck it in strange.
My mind drifted to the day I’d found her sexy snapchats saved on his phone. She was slim, with a little bit of a tummy like me, and waves of long blonde hair that fell to her small breasts. I remember feeling not hatred towards her, but pity, as I wondered how long Frank had been stringing her along and if she was prepared for the reality of a relationship with him when he slunk over to her looking to have his wounds (and his balls) licked.
The way everyone reacted, I figured that they thought I should be devastated over his betrayal, especially because it was with a woman who was so different from me, but I didn’t give a shit. If he’d been cheating on her with me, my curvy body would be used as proof that he’d taken a step down in the world. The way I looked would always be used to shame me, even if I felt no shame for my body or the way I handled it.
Glancing up, I caught sight of myself in the window, my reflection staring back at me with wide eyes. My weight had fluctuated right from when I started puberty- where I had once been washboard-flat, my body produced curves and rolls that I’d only ever seen on my friend’s big sisters before. I initially tried to fight against my womanly form, dieting for all I was worth, but I slowly grew to like the way my D-cup breasts filled out a sweater, and how my ass looked pinchable as hell in a tight skirt. Sure, the attention from boys helped too, but it was my own self-worth that mattered to me, not whether some dude wanted to stick his dick in me.
It took me a long time to accept the fact that I wasn’t going to look like the teeny-tiny skinny girls in magazines, but once I did my life became a thousand times better. I focused on making myself healthy, instead of skinny, and ate a bunch more- I learnt to cook a bunch of great meals from scratch, enjoying the way my body felt when it was full of good stuff. And I exercised more, turning the fat on my body into muscle. I still had curves, but I felt good in them now, enjoying the way my body moved and rippled around me. And the men I dated loved it, too- whether they just didn’t care what I looked like or if they actually sought our bigger women like me. It helped that I knew how to wear my size, rocking big dresses, ombre hair, and massive make-up on my almond eyes. I didn’t want to fade away into the background like so many women my size had been taught to do, I wanted to look as awesome as I could. And I knew I did.
I glanced across at the desk, looking at the receptionist behind it, and felt my heart do a little flutter. This kind of thing always happened once I was coming out of a long-term relationship with a guy- I would find myself drawn to women for a little while, my body reacting against the onslaught of dick I’d been faced with in the previous few months. I knew I did actually, genuinely like women, but I’d never plucked up the nerve to actually ask one out before.
I found myself constantly wondering what it would be like, ending up on a date or even in bed with the petite ladies who made my stomach flip. It wasn’t like I hadn’t made out with girls before, but the thought of going even further was becoming more and more tempting as time went on. The receptionist, and women like her had always been the ones to catch my eye- dressed smartly, with small, tight, curvaceous bodies and feminine features. I guessed it was my way of firmly rejecting masculine energy, going for a woman who was totally and sweetly feminine.
The receptionist looked up, and cast a smile my way; I grinned back and looked away, not wanting to be caught making the staff uncomfortable. Even though I figured she wouldn’t think I was doing much more than staring off into space, I didn’t want to freak her out with my patent slavering over her slim form.
I was snapped out of my reverie by the door clicking open, and my name being called.
“Andy Johnson?”
“Right here,” I stood up, nodding politely at the woman who’d just said my name. She cast a wide grin at me, and gestured for
me to follow her.
“Right this way. If you just want to follow me through to the examination room, we can begin,” she explained. I did as I was told, making my way through the narrow corridors until she led me into a small consulting room, with a curtain that covered an examination table. Sitting myself down opposite her, she arranged her skirt carefully across her knees and sat down.
“I’m Rachel, I’m a nurse here, and I’ll be consulting with you today, as Doctor Black is away this week,” she smiled, her tone warm and comforting. Now that we were sitting down, I could get a better look at her; she was small, much smaller than me, with her short brown hair pulled away from her face in a severe ponytail. Her skin was smooth, a perfect shade of olive, the kind that I wanted to run my fingers over and caress. Her clothes were billowy and left plenty to the imagination, but from what I could see of her she was slim and well-muscled. I swallowed, suddenly aware how alone we were in that room together.
“So, what can I help you with today, Andy?” she continued, glancing up at me with a smile. She had the kind of gentle demeanor that I couldn’t argue with, the kind that made me want to curl up with my head on her lap and tell her everything that had happened over the last few weeks. I refrained from doing so, obviously, and prepared my usual tale-of-woe voice that I had on lock for whenever I needed to share the story of what Frank had done.
“I was dating this guy for a while, and it turns out that he’s been cheating on me. I just wanted to come in and make sure that I hadn’t caught anything off him or his new lady friend.”
She wrinkled her brow sympathetically, then nodded at me. “I understand entirely.” She produced a pen and clicked out the nib, hovering it over a sheet of paper. “And have you had any symptoms recently that might suggest you have an STI?”
“Nothing unusual, no. I had some sort of early-UTI symptoms this week, but I took some cranberry pills and that seemed to put paid to it for the time being,” I explained. “I just want to be on the safe side, so I don’t give anything unexpected to the next person I’m with.”
“Of course.” She nodded. “And do you have any sexual partners at the moment?”
I shook my head. “I wish.” The words were out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop them, and I tried my best to reel them back in. “I mean- sorry, I meant-“
“I’ll take that as a “no””, she answered pleasantly, making a note on the paper. I could have sworn that I saw a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. Was she laughing at me?
“Right,” I nodded.
“And when was your last sexual encounter?”
“Six weeks ago, before the break-up.”
“Did you use protection?” She asked, her tone professional but tinged with curiosity.
I nodded. “Always.”
“That’s very sensible of you, Andy. It’s unlikely you’ve caught anything, but of course we’ll run the tests anyway. Do you have any reason to think you might have caught something from your ex-partner?” She inquired, her tone light.
“He wasn’t very keen on using protection with me, and I figured if he could get away without it he totally would.”
“Of course,” she nodded. She scribbled another note down on her piece of paper, and I felt a hint of blush creeping up my neck. Why was she making me so nervous? She wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary, anything that I didn’t expect her to do. But something about her no-nonsense attitude as we talked about my sex life (or lack thereof) was making me nervous. I scrunched my hands into a ball in my lap, trying to keep my focus on the task at hand and not let myself get distracted by the curve of her breast under her smart work shirt.
“Are you on any birth control right now?” she continued, apparently oblivious to my squirming discomfort.
“No, I just use barrier methods when I do have sex.”
“Condoms? Dental dams?”
“Um, both,” I replied. It was true. I was always super-careful with my sexual health, and even if I’d been with someone a long time I didn’t let them get near me without at least something between them and my genitals.
“Good,” she murmured, scribbling something else down. Satisfied, she sat up and looked at me again. “Now, for the full STI check, we’ll need to do a physical examination, if you’re comfortable with that?”
I nodded. “Sure, I’ve had them from Doctor Black before.” I remembered the last time he’d had to get down between my legs to figure out why an infection was taking so long to clear up; the thought made me blush even harder.
“So you know what to expect,” she nodded. “That’s great. I can give you some privacy, and I’ll just leave this form here for you to fill out if that’s okay.” She patted a sheet of paper on the table, laying a pen down next to it for me to use.
“Right,” I agreed, staring down at the paper, reluctant to look at her again lest I give away the lewd thoughts that were already taking over my brain.
“Great,” she grinned, standing up and stepping towards the door. “I’ll leave the room, and I’ll be back in a few minutes to continue the examination. Is that okay?”
“Of course,” I nodded, watching as she clicked open the door and locked it behind her, leaving me alone in the examination room.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Come on, I scolded myself, she’s just doing her job. She just needs to check you out for anything obvious, and then you can get dressed and be on your way. But the thought of being naked in front of this woman was causing a pressure to build in between my legs, one that was familiar but long-missed. It had been a while since I’d found myself actually attracted to someone like this, and it was just bad timing that my body had decided to react to one of the few people who had to see me naked in a non-sexual context.
I pulled the form over to me and began to quickly scribble in my answers, filling out details on my sexual history and my reasons for my visit. It was good to have something to take my mind off the situation, something to focus my brain on.
Once I was done, I took a long breath in and stood up, leaning down to unzip my boots as I did so. I was glad I’d worn easy clothes today- skinny jeans with a blouse and a big scarf (three items makes an outfit) as I kicked off my shoes and socks and unwound the scarf from my neck. I slid myself out of my jeans and pulled off my shirt, reaching behind me to unhook my bra. Then I slid my panties over my feet and went to sit on the examination table, my arms crossed over my body self-consciously. It wasn’t that I was ashamed to let her see me naked- far from it, I was very proud of my body- but it had been a long time since someone I’d actually found myself attracted to had seen me without clothes, and I was understandably nervous.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror next to her desk, and promptly uncrossed my arms and legs. I looked like I didn’t want anyone to see me, and I didn’t like the idea that the nurse might think I was ashamed of my body. I’d spent way too long being insecure about the way I looked to freak out about it now. I took a deep breath, and let my breathing steady, telling myself that it would be over in a matter of minutes.
There was a knock on the door, and Rachel poked her head around it. “Ready?” She asked.
Chapter Two
The nurse stepped around the door and moved towards me, reaching towards her table for a tape measure. “Is it okay if we do a quick height and weight measurement while you’re here? It saves Doctor Black having to do one next time he’s in.”
“Of course,” I nodded, acutely aware of my nudity next to her naked form.
“If you could just stand up and raise your arms, that would be great,” she continued, stepping towards me and unfurling the tape measure. I did as I was told, lifting my arms to shoulder height, and Rachel wrapped the measure around my hips first. The coolness of the plastic felt good against my overheated skin. She took a note, then pulled the tape measure taut around my waist, lowering her head so she could get a good reading off it. I might have been imagining it, but it seemed like she li
ngered a little longer than she had to at my waist, her hands skimming across my expanses of flesh. I shivered slightly, making Rachel giggle.
“Sorry, I won’t keep you here for long,” she apologized, furrowing her brow sympathetically. Then she reached up to wrap the measure around my breasts, the plastic digging in deliciously against my nipples. I curled my toes to keep from making a sound as the stiff measure cut into my skin slightly, sending tingles across my breasts and down my body. Her fingers brushed against my breast as she moved away to take another note, and I realized that my nipples were now rock-hard, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.
After she got me to step on the scales, Rachel snapped on a pair of latex gloves and took me by the elbow, leading me back to the examination table.
“If you’d just like to lie down here and pop your legs up in the stirrups,” she announced cheerfully, helping me maneuver my body so that my legs were above my head and spread wide apart. Rachel adjusted the stirrups, pushing my knees even further away from each other, and I felt a jolt of shock as the cold air hit my exposed pussy. It wasn’t like this was the first medical exam I’d had to have down there, but it was by far the most interesting.
I tried to remember what my last medical exam had been like with Dr. Black, but it had been so long ago I could barely remember. I seemed to recall being in a thin paper robe as opposed to stark naked, but perhaps protocol had changed or something? I just had to trust that Rachel was doing her job right. If Dr. Black had allowed her to cover for him, then she must be doing something right.
I allowed my head to fall back, taking deep breaths to relax myself as Rachel stepped around me, positioning herself between my legs. Even before she’d laid a hand on me, I could feel my pussy tingling- I was almost embarrassed at how turned-on I was at the thought of her latex-clad hands touching me. I prayed to God that she wouldn’t be able to tell how aroused I was- after all, she was going to be right down in there. I felt so vulnerable, so exposed, but I found myself kind of liking it, too.
Romance: My Stepbrother's Plaything Page 87
